So You Would Never Feel Different
by the mummer's folly
Summary: Movie-verse backstory about the lives of the Asgardian royal family, especially Loki.
1. Prologue: Jotunheim

Okay, disclaimer first: _Thor_ belongs to Marvel. I own none of this.

Bear in mind, I'm writing this story from a strictly movie-verse angle. I didn't try to get things to line up with the comics or the myths. These are just my speculations that I think help explain what was going on in the movie.

And I know the _Avengers_ just came out. Better late than never.

_**Prologue**_

_Jotunheim_

So much for getting answers.

Jotun after Jotun hurled itself at the Asgardians, heedless of the danger. Every stroke of Asgardian steel felled a Frost Giant; yet for every one that fell, another stepped up to try its luck.

In the middle of it all stood Thor, hammer whirling, laughing as if the life-or-death battle were no more than a game. At least he was enjoying himself; around him, his friends and brother were fighting for their lives. The Frost Giants pressed them by sheer weight of numbers, and their ice magic was beginning to take its toll.

Volstagg found himself in the middle of a wrestling match with a particularly large Jotun. With one hand it caught his axe, sending ice crystals down the handle. The other seized his forearm, its icy grip searing his skin. Volstagg howled and wrested himself away, felling the giant with a blow before looking down at the frostbitten handprint.

"Don't let them touch you!" he shouted.

Not far away, Loki heard him and caught his meaning on the fly. He was doing well; his knives and magic had claimed more than one Jotun life. Smallest and weakest of the Asgardians, he was by no means defenseless. He was clever, that was his strength. And if anything got them out alive today, it would be Loki's brains instead of Thor's brawn, he thought.

_Blast it, where is that guard?_

A Frost Giant dropped from a ledge overhead. Loki closed the gap before it could fully rise, catching it with a swift thrust of his dagger. The giant fell to its knees, seizing Loki's arm as it went down. He jerked back, expecting pain, but none came, even as the temperature in his arm dropped scores of degrees at once. Instead, the fine scales of mail that covered his arm broke loose and fell rattling to the ground. Loki felt a chill spreading up his arm, but what froze his blood was this: looking down, he saw the color of his skin changing, spreading out from where the giant held him. Not the charred black of frostbite, but blue, spreading to the tips of his fingers and up beneath his sleeve, turning his arm the same color as the hand that gripped it. Loki's eyes widened in shock. Panicked, he glanced up and saw comprehension creep into his assailant's eyes. He put an end to it with a quick thrust of his dagger and wrenched away from the dead Jotun. Holding his hand up before him, he watched it rapidly return to its normal color. There was no wound, nothing to indicate the change that had just taken place; but the ruined mail sleeve proved to him that he had not imagined it. He glanced around franticly. The others were busy with their own battles. No one had seen what had transpired.

_What just happened to me?_


	2. Chapter 1: The Foundling

_**Chapter 1**_

_The Foundling_

The war was finally over.

It had been many years since the Jotun invasion of Midgard had put the Asgardians on the offensive. The slaughter had been unimaginable, much had been lost or ruined, and the Jotuns had suffered for their aggression. But it was over now.

Odin, King of Asgard, climbed slowly down the steps leading to the temple and the sacred plaza. Above him, the wind shrieked around the tower where he had just received King Laufey's surrender. Not far away, the army of Asgard was regrouping to return home. The first units had already crossed the Bifrost; very soon, Odin would join them.

He was tired, tired to the bone. The fight that day had cost him his eye, and the messy wound made the whole side of his head ache and blurred the vision in his remaining eye. He stumbled on the last step and paused, leaning on the shaft of his spear.

Approaching footsteps made him look up. It was one of his captains, Freyr by the look of him. The younger man marched up and snapped a smart salute.

"Allfather," he said. "The Jotun prisoners are secure. Your orders?"

"Let them go," Odin replied.

"Let them – Sire?"

"Let them go," he repeated. "Their king has been defeated, the source of their power has been seized, their city has been destroyed. Let them go; they have been beaten enough."

"But what about making an example? What about the ringleaders? If we let them go they might rise up –"

"And if we are cruel they certainly will. There has been enough slaughter, Freyr. Let us be merciful. Let us show them how civilized men deal."

Freyr hesitated, then bowed and left to carry out the order. Odin watched him go before turning and continuing his labored march.

He found himself walking through the Jotuns' temple, the place where both their Casket and their king had been housed. The fighting had been fiercest here; half-frozen pools of mingled Jotun and Asgardian blood stained the hem of Odin's cloak as he passed. He wanted desperately to rest, but there would be a time for that later. Right now his people needed him to be strong, so he would give them their strong king.

It was a lie, of course; the ache in his bones and the throbbing pain in his face reminded him of his vulnerability. _I've been wounded, like so many others. And if I can be wounded, I can die, too. Just like so many others._ The thought chilled him. His thoughts turned homeward, to his beloved queen Frigga, who in all their years of marriage had never borne him a child. With no heir to the throne, who would lead Asgard if misfortune befell its king? Odin paused in the middle of the temple.

At first he thought it was the wind, wailing in some distant recess of the temple. But that had been constant since his arrival; this sound was new. Straining his ears, he cast about for its source, following it at last to what he recognized as the royal chambers. Entering, he came up short, surprised by what he saw.

In the middle of the floor lay an infant, no more than a few days old and much smaller than a normal Jotun child. It lay uncovered on a worn and dirty blanket, a filthy rag bound haphazardly around its bottom. It kicked feebly and wailed its misery.

Odin stepped forward quickly and scooped the child up with one arm, looking around for some sign of its caretaker. The room showed every sign of a hasty evacuation: belongings lay strewn about, all of them broken or useless in some way. There was no food, no useful implement, none of the gold and ivory the Jotuns were so fond of. Nothing of value had been left except the child, and from its ill-kept appearance he wondered if it had been counted as valuable.

As if it sensed a friendly presence, the baby stopped wailing and opened its bleary newborn eyes, whimpering piteously. _How could someone be so hard-hearted as to abandon an innocent child? _he thought. _How is it that I long for a child and have none, while another cares so little for the child she has borne that she leaves it to die? _He tucked the baby inside his cloak next to his body. _Oh, little one, if you were mine, I would not have left you._

An idea occurred to Odin then, and he sat down on a slab of ice to ponder it. As he thought, he watched the tiny child, and what he saw surprised him and confirmed his budding plan. The infant, warmed by the heat of the big man's body, had begun to change color, the ice blue of the Jotun fading rapidly to be replaced by pale pink flesh. The infant's eyes had even begun to change from red to deep blue-grey.

_Why, he looks no different from an Asgardian child! Yes, this will do perfectly. _


	3. Chapter 2: The Plan

Chapter 2

_The Plan_

Hyperspace sang as the last of the rearguard set foot in the Bifrost chamber: Odin, his senior commander Njord, and their housecarls with them. Njord carried the Casket of Ancient Winters, the Frost Giants' most sacred relic and the source of their power. The rest of the army had already returned under the command of Freyr Njordson and Tyr.

Njord marched straight out of the chamber with most of the housecarls, under orders to deliver the Casket directly to the vault beneath the palace for safekeeping. Odin watched him go as the remaining guards took up positions outside the chamber. He had entrusted the Casket to Njord for two reasons. First, as one of the oldest and greatest in Asgard, he was the most trustworthy, as well as the least likely to be harmed by the Casket's power. The second, less obvious reason was that Odin couldn't carry both it and the infant at the same time. The child was tucked securely beneath his cloak for the time being, sleeping fitfully and out of sight. Odin had thought it best to keep him hidden, if only because the chaos of the withdrawal was not the ideal time to announce an heir to the throne. A more opportune time would come, and until then he didn't want tongues wagging.

Heimdall the Gatekeeper stepped down from his dais, taking in the king's appearance: grime, battered armor, the bloody mess that was the right side of his face, the faint whimpers from beneath his cloak. The gatekeeper hesitated, as if wondering what to address first.

"My king, you are hurt," he said. "Shall I send for a healer?"

"In good time, Heimdall," Odin replied. "It looks worse than it is. I have matters to attend to first."

Heimdall glanced at the king's side.

"The child?" he said. Odin nodded; he hadn't expected to keep it from Heimdall anyway.

"I found him in the temple. When I spoke to the Jotun captives none of them seemed to recognize him except one very old one. He told me the boy was the son of Laufey by one..." He struggled to remember the name. "...Faurbodi. One of the royal concubines, no doubt..."

"The foremost of his wives, and the only one so far to have given him a child," Heimdall interjected. "The Jotun told you truly. This child is the firstborn of Laufey."

_Better and better!_ Odin decided to tell Heimdall his plan.

"... The old Jotun told me that the child had been left behind because they considered him a cripple of sorts, because he was small. As if slight build precludes an able mind!" Odin finished. "He said the boy was called Loki, 'since mischief was all Laufey ever got from Faurbodi.' Well, Laufey's loss will be my gain."

Heimdall frowned. "You are sure of the wisdom of this?"

"You think it unwise?" Odin scowled. He hadn't expected to be gainsaid by the gatekeeper.

"I think he is Laufey's son."

"Laufey is defeated and is my subject. I want to make peace, and what better way than this? Besides, I have no son of my own."

For a moment Heimdall looked like he might say something, but changed his mind and bowed in submission.

"I tell you these things because I know I can I trust you, Heimdall," Odin continued. "No one else must know, not until the time is ripe. I want you to swear to me that you will tell no one what you have heard here."

Without hesitation Heimdall knelt, raised his great sword, and turned it hilt-first toward Odin, who laid a hand on the pommel.

"You have my silence, my king," he said.

"Good," Odin said. "When the time comes, I will release you from your oath. Now I must return to my house. The time has come for me to sleep, and I must speak to my wife before I rest."

* * *

A horse was brought for him and he proceeded down the Rainbow Bridge through the streets of Asgard. No crowds greeted him; news of his return had not been broadcast until the last minute. The triumphal procession would be later, when he would appear to his people, strong, hale and smiling. Right now, bloodied and exhausted, it would be best if he arrived quietly.

Frigga greeted him on the steps of the palace, holding out the welcome cup. Odin drank, said a few words to his assembled household, and retired with Frigga to their private chambers.

How good to be home! Odin hadn't even seen his wife since before the final campaign began, nearly five months ago. The doors to their chambers closed behind them and Frigga turned to her husband.

"I brought you a gift from Jotunheim," he said, drawing the baby from beneath his cloak. "I brought you a son to be our own."

Frigga gave a cry of mingled delight and concern, rushing forward to gather the child up in her arms.

"He looks so ill," she said. "I'm going to send for a wet nurse."

"No one else knows of him but Heimdall," Odin said as she went to the door. Frigga nodded, then opened the door and called to one of her handmaidens. When the woman had gone on her errand, with instructions not to speak of it to anyone, Frigga turned back to her husband.

"Where did he come from?" she asked.

"He is the son of Laufey, king of the Jotuns. I intend to make him my heir, and as Laufey's firstborn, he is already heir to the throne of Jotunheim. When he is grown, he will unite our kingdoms and bring an end to these wars."

Frigga sat on the edge of the bed, cradling the infant while she listened. When Odin finished, he noticed a crease forming between her brows.

"What is it, wife?"

"Husband," she began. "There's something I must tell you. We're not without a child of our own, not anymore." She stood and smoothed the front of her gown, smiling shyly. Odin looked at her, uncomprehending for a moment; then it hit him and he felt a little faint.

"When...?" he said.

"The last time you were home," she said. "I didn't find out until late."

Odin sat down on the edge of the bed, finally overwhelmed. Frigga came to sit by him.

"Our baby," he breathed. "A child of our own."

Frigga smiled and took his hand. "Now we have two," she said.


	4. Chapter 3: The New Plan

Chapter 3

_The New Plan_

Odin sat brooding on his throne.

Frigga's labor had begun the day before. While she was still able to move around she had been in good spirits; after all, this was something she had looked forward to for so long. But things had intensified during the night and she had retreated with her ladies into the royal bedchamber to give birth while the rest of the household waited anxiously.

Loki's nursemaid stood at the edge of the throne room, the infant prince in her arms. The last four months had shown a marked improvement in the child's health; at first he had been so sick that his new parents feared for his life, but with proper care he had recovered quickly and now resembled an Asgardian child of the same age. A tuft of black hair crowned his head, and enormous baby-blue eyes gazed from beneath a serious brow.

_What bright eyes,_ Odin thought with a swell of pride. _He'll be a clever boy someday._

He had already developed a paternal fondness for the foundling, though news of Frigga's pregnancy had thrown his plans back into the air. It was a hard matter; he had already made known his decision to adopt the son of Laufey, albeit only to Heimdall, and he wasn't about to back out. On the other hand, he wasn't about to dispossess his own child, either. To buy himself more time, he had decided to keep the boy's presence in his household a secret. A handful of servants had been brought into the matter, including the nursemaid, and had been made to swear a sacred oath to say nothing of the child's existence until further notice. He and Frigga, meanwhile, had discussed their options at length.

"It could be a girl," Frigga had mentioned at one point. If so that would simplify things; Laufey's son could be wed to the princess, uniting the kingdoms and providing an elegant solution to a number of problems. It was an excellent plan.

It had one flaw. What if it was a boy? Odin got up and began to pace.

His footsteps led him past the corner where the nursemaid waited. She bowed as he passed, but the child in her arms smiled toothlessly and gurgled. Odin stopped and held out his arms for the boy.

"Oh, my boy," he smiled. "Who could fret when they see that smile? You could charm a serpent."

Loki giggled and cooed, apparently quite interested in the shiny gold patch that hid the scar of Odin's right eye. He had already become one of the family; Frigga in particular never spoke of him as "Laufey's son," but referred to him as "my baby." If he had come from her own womb she could not have cared for him more.

Odin wished it were that simple for him. If he had been a man of lower rank there would have been no need to worry about alliances and inheritances; he would have adopted Loki long since and not worried what the next child would be. As it was, if it was a girl no one would have to get disinherited and it would only be a few decades, maybe a century, before Loki was his son by marriage. But until the child was born, Odin dared not make any permanent plans. He hated the uncertainty. Only a few more hours, he thought, maybe only a few more minutes. Then things could begin falling into place.

Footsteps echoed behind him and a servant appeared at the entrance to the hall.

"Allfather," he said breathlessly. "Lady Frigga has given birth. You have a son!"

* * *

All thoughts and plans vanished as Odin nearly ran through the corridors to the bedchamber. When he arrived Frigga was composed and sitting up in bed, smiling. A cloth-wrapped bundle was held in her arms, which Odin stooped close to examine: a puffy, pruny babe, bald and bleary-eyed, blinking and drooling at the world he had just entered. Odin fell in love at once.

"Your son, my love," Frigga said softly, handing the child to his father. Odin took him carefully and stared at him, entranced. After a moment the midwife, seeing the royal family comfortably situated, shooed the servants out and closed the doors. Odin and Frigga sat in silence for a while, gazing at their newborn son.

He was big, at least as big as Loki had been at the same age. The few hairs he had on his head were so light they were nearly invisible. _He'll be fair-headed someday,_ Odin thought, beaming.

"How are we to call him?" asked Frigga at length. Odin chuckled as the child grabbed his finger with a surprising grip.

"He's a strong lad," he said. Frigga smiled.

"That's what they said the minute he was born. 'Healthy as a horse and strong as a thunderclap.'"

"Thunderclap," mused Odin. "Yes. A strong name for a strong man. _Thor_, that is what we'll call him.

"Thor," murmured Frigga, touching her son's forehead. The babe's little eyelids fell shut, and she gathered him back to herself. "Loki and Thor."

"Yes," said Odin. His moment of happiness passed, replaced again by uncertainty. "What of Loki? I had meant to make him my heir, but the law... and not just the law, my heart forbids me disinherit my own son."

"Loki is also your son," Frigga reminded him. "You said so the day you brought him home."

"But whoever heard of the firstborn being four months younger than his brother?" he fumed.

"They're not that distant in age," she said. "It's easy to tell now, but in a couple of years..."

Something clicked in Odin's mind.

"That's it!" he said and jumped up. "They'll grow up together... no one will ever know..." At last, a plan was falling into place! "No one knows Loki's here..."

"What are you talking about?" Frigga asked. She was staring at him, concerned.

"We'll bring them up as twins!" he said triumphantly. "We'll present them to the kingdom as if they were born at the same time. From that kind of distance, no one will be able to see the difference anyway, especially if they're swaddled. By the time they're old enough to ask about it, there will be no way to tell who's older."

Frigga was frowning. "You're not suggesting we lie to them?"

Odin faltered. "No, of course not..." The image crossed his mind of Loki smiling up at him; such a happy, trusting child, so cruelly abandoned by his birth parents. "We'll only be giving them an equal chance," he said. "Besides, it's no lie to tell him he's one of the family. He is our son. And Thor is his brother. There, I have said it, and so it shall be."

* * *

Three days later the crowd had assembled to witness the presentation of the new princes. A royal herald stepped forward and raised his voice. "Rejoice, people of Asgard! Lady Frigga has given to Odin Allfather twin sons, to lead his people in justice and peace!"

Odin and Frigga appeared, clad in their finest regalia, each holding a swaddled infant in their arms. Together they raised the children high, making them visible to all. The herald's voice was nearly lost in the joyous roar of the crowd.

"Behold, people of Asgard! Thor and Loki, the sons of Odin!"


	5. Chapter 4: Brothers

Chapter 4

_Brothers_

The fight had ended almost as soon as it had begun.

The sound of low sobbing came from behind the door. It was ajar an inch or so, and Frigga, having found what she was looking for, paused to peer through the crack.

Loki sat at the base of a chair, knees drawn up to his chest, crying. When Frigga opened the door he started and jumped to his feet, scrubbing at his face in an effort to hide his tears. The taller of Odin's twin sons, he still barely came up past Frigga's elbow. He was slender and dark haired, and his pale complexion and delicate features caused some to think him sickly. His face was blotchy now from crying; his normally smooth hair stood up in several places and his clothes were crumpled, and he stared sullenly at the floor.

"Loki," Frigga said gently. "Tell me what happened."

The boy hesitated, then burst out: "Twasn't my fault! Thor started it!"

"I don't care who started it. Tell me what happened."

"Thor wanted to bring Sif with us fishing. But we can't, because she's a girl! And Thor said she doesn't count 'cause she doesn't hit like a girl. He said she hits better than me. And I said she doesn't, and he called me a liar!"

"And then?"

Loki flushed and continued in a low voice. "And then I called him stupid. And then he hit me."

Frigga sighed and knelt in front of her son, placing a hand on each shoulder. "Can you tell me what you did wrong?"

Loki looked taken aback. "I didn't hit anybody! Thor hit me!" he protested.

"I didn't ask what Thor did. I asked what you did. You can't control your brother's actions, only your own."

Loki hung his head.

"Can you tell me what you did wrong?"

He nodded.

"Tell me."

"I shouldn't have called him stupid," he muttered.

"There. Now, will you apologize to him?"

Loki looked up, his face plaintive at the mention of this new indignity. Before he could protest, though, Frigga stood and called out: "Thor!"

There were footsteps in the hall, and Loki's brother came into sight, running at full tilt, yellow hair flying. At the door he slowed to a walk and bowed his head, trying his best to look repentant but ruining the effect by trying to catch his mother's eye. Loki glared at him for a moment, then dropped his gaze to scowl at the floor.

"Loki," Frigga said. "What do you say to your brother?"

"I'm sorry I called you stupid," Loki said to the floor.

"Thor, what do you say to your brother?"

"I'm sorry I hit you, Loki. And called you a liar. And said you couldn't hit as good as Sif."

Loki noticed Thor's toes fidgeting as he spoke and looked up uncertainly. Thor took this as a good sign, and threw his arms around his brother. "I'm sorry, Loki!" he bawled dramatically.

"No you're not!" Loki cried, but he was laughing as he said it. Boyish pride appeased by Thor's antics, he tried to tackle his brother around the waist until their mother separated them.

"Will you boys be friends now?"

"Yes, Mother," they said in unison.

Frigga turned and went to a couch at the edge of the room. Sitting down, she beckoned to her sons and they ran to join her, hopping to either side of her and laying their heads in her lap.

"Mother, will you tell us a story?" Thor asked.

"Tell about Father and his brothers and how they killed all the giants," put in Loki.

Frigga rested a hand on each of her sons' heads and closed her eyes, thinking back through the years.

"Once upon a time there were three brothers who had a wonderful adventure..."

* * *

"Are they asleep?" Odin asked.

"Yes," said Frigga, easing the door shut behind her. They had dropped off before she had finished the story, and she had called servants to carry them to bed.

"I had hoped to talk to them," Odin said. "Oh well. It can wait until morning." He opened the door a crack and peered inside. "I wish they'd stop quarreling and learn to get along."

Frigga smiled and laid a hand on her husband's arm.

"It will come," she said.

"I hope so. One day those two will have to rely a great deal on each other."

"Like you relied on your brothers."

"That was different. Besides, I'm all the poorer without Villi and Vi. I don't want my successor to be handicapped the same way."

"Have you decided which one will succeed you?"

"No," Odin sighed. "I haven't. It's not simple at all. I still rather like the idea of Loki inheriting both Asgard and Jotunheim. If we could just get the populace to accept him, he could unite us into one people for the first time in millennia. It would ease a great many regrets I've had over the years. And yet..."

"And yet you prefer Thor," Frigga finished.

"Well, yes," he admitted. "He reminds me of myself when I was that age. Besides," he added. "Thor's my own flesh and blood. Legally, the inheritance is his." He sighed again. "Oh, what a rubbish dilemma! No father should have to choose between his children!"

Frigga looked in at the boys, fast asleep in their beds. They were as different as night and day: fair-haired exuberant Thor, his father's son in every way; and dark, pensive Loki, her quiet child. They were both her children, and always would be, wherever they had come from. She could never choose between them.

Behind her, Odin was still speaking. "... The Frost Giants might not accept Loki as king, anyway, what with his Asgardian upbringing. And apparently Laufey has other children now, two at least with the same woman, according to Heimdall."

Frigga closed the door softly. "When will you tell him, husband?" Odin turned.

"Who, Heimdall?"

"Loki. When will you tell him where he comes from?" Frigga asked. Odin shuffled uncomfortably. It wasn't the first time the subject had come up. "He still thinks he's Thor's twin. He asked me yesterday why he looks so different from the rest of us."

"I'll tell him," Odin insisted, "eventually. It would just be a lot to take in. I mean, what with being abandoned as a child, and all the things people say about Frost Giants these days... I don't want to upset him. I don't want him to think we don't love him."

Frigga put a hand on his arm. Together they turned and moved quietly down the hall, away from the door and their sleeping sons.


	6. Chapter 5: An Heir

Chapter 5

_An Heir_

At long last, the king had chosen on heir.

Odin had called the elders and jarls of Asgard to moot and announced that Thor, his firstborn, would succeed him on the throne. Thor was well-liked; the decision was met with hearty approval and satisfaction, and no small amount of money changed hands behind Odin's back. It had long been a matter of debate which of the twin princes was the legal inheritor.

Frigga had arranged a quiet dinner for family only that night. There would be feasts aplenty in the days to come, and it would soon be a rare occasion when they would all be together in peace. The transfer of power was not to take place for a decade or more, but Thor and Odin surely would be kept busy with the preparations. Even now they were engaged, Odin closeted with his advisers, Thor moving about the city accepting congratulations from his soon-to-be-subjects. Frigga had assumed that Loki had gone with him, as usual. So she was surprised when she came across him in a room off the banquet hall, seated on the edge of the hearth, staring absently into the heart of the fire. So lost was he in thought that he failed to notice his mother in the room until she called his name. Then he scrambled to his feet and bowed, respectfully and a little stiffly.

"Loki," she asked, "why didn't you go out with your brother? Are you feeling ill?"

Loki looked like he wanted to say something but restrained himself. "I'm fine," he said with a rather forced smile. "I was just... tired, that's all."

Frigga took a seat in a chair and Loki returned to his place by the fire and his thousand-yard stare. He was troubled about something, Frigga knew. She was about to ask him what was on his mind when the crash of doors flung open and a peel of off-key song heralded Thor's return.

"Ah," said Frigga, rising. "Your brother is home. Come, Loki. It is time to eat."

* * *

Supper that night was held in a small dining room in the royal family's private quarters. Odin and Thor took up most of the conversation with talk of politics and preparations, and Odin wanted to hear again about his sons' latest adventure. Thor was more than happy to oblige, and launched with great detail into an account of the quest that had led him and his companions into the heart of Nornheim, and of the daring feats which had brought them back. For her part, Frigga could have gone without hearing the story again; after months of worry she was just glad to have her sons back in one piece. Odin, however, was still thrilled to hear it. It was the main factor that had made up his mind in regard to choosing an heir. Thor's conduct in the Battle of Nornheim had so impressed him that after the princes' return a week ago there had no longer been any doubt in his mind who the next king of Asgard would be.

Thor motioned grandly as he described the various dangers he and his friends had faced. He loved to tell this story. So had Loki, until two days ago. Now, though, he brooded, hardly speaking through the meal, picking at his food, and turning his wine into a snake which slithered in circles around his plate until a look from his mother made him return it to his cup. Finally he got up and took his leave. Frigga watched him go before excusing herself to follow him.

He hadn't gone far when she caught up to him.

"Loki, what's wrong? Why didn't you finish your supper?"

"I wasn't hungry," he said, turning slightly. "I was just tired." He had composed himself, but Frigga could see it was an act.

"Loki," she said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "The truth." She marveled at how much he'd grown. When had her fretful little boy become this handsome, clever young man? He was a full six inches taller than her, and the eyes that had once been the color of the bottom of the ocean had long since darkened to grey-green. "Tell me what troubles you."

Loki's frown deepened and he seemed to hesitate. He opened his mouth and for a moment he seemed ready to confide in his mother. Then the door slammed open and he was cut short.

"Hullo, brother!" boomed Thor. "What's wrong with you tonight?"

Loki's face darkened immediately. "I'm well," he said with acid courtesy. "Leave me alone."

Thor blinked. "I was just trying to be polite."

Loki said nothing, but his look was venomous and he turned away. Thor shrugged.

"Come on, come back to the table. I was just getting to the part about the dragon and –" Loki whirled on him.

"Oh, dry up! You think you were the only one at Nornheim? You think you were the only one who risked his life?"

"Well, alright, if you want to tell it..."

Loki glowered at him. Frigga decided to step in before things got out of hand.

"That's not what this is about, is it?" she asked. Loki hesitated. Whatever he had to say, he didn't want to say it in front of his brother. In the meantime, a light flickered on behind Thor's eyes.

"You've been in a sulk all day," he said. "Ever since Father's announcement. You're not jealous, are you?"

"Thor, please," Frigga said.

"No, of course not," Loki snapped. "Why would I ever be jealous of you?" He turned, stalked to the bench at the end of the room and sat down. Frigga joined him.

"I think I know how it is," she said. "Loki, the kingship isn't something to be envied. It's a heavy burden and hard to bear. Soon your brother will learn this, and so will you. Besides," she said, thinking there might be more to the matter, "Thor isn't receiving this title because he's better than you or more loved. He's the firstborn, and by law he must inherit the throne." But Loki was shaking his head.

"What does it matter that he's the firstborn? We're twins! If we're exactly the same age, what difference can it make who came out first?"

Frigga had to bite her tongue to hold back the real explanation. _It's not fair to him!_ something inside her cried out. _ Oh my love, we should have told him long ago._ "Loki..." she said, as Thor sat down on her other side.

"It's just chance, I suppose," he offered. "Like a coin toss. 'Winner gets the throne.' Or maybe like Mother said, 'Loser gets the throne.'"

"You're already a loser," Loki said with a weak smile.

"Ah, shut up, Bookworm!" Thor laughed, flopping down with his head in his mother's lap. It was an age old jest, and even Loki had to smile at it.

"You know, I used to think there couldn't be a firstborn where twins were concerned," Loki said as he eased himself down, laying his head next to Thor's "I used to think we'd both be kings at the same time."

Frigga smiled. She remembered those days, when Loki sat at her feet, babbling out his boyish dreams. "When we're kings," he had said. Thor had said it, too, so long ago.

"Well," said Thor, "when I'm king, the first thing I'll do is make you my royal vizier. You'll be in charge of everything..."

"Great," muttered Loki. "Don't do me any favors."

"Well, alright, we can both be kings. We can't divide up Asgard, Father wouldn't be too happy about that. Tell you what," he motioned grandly with Mjolnir. "When I'm king, we'll go out, you and me, and conquer some new realm and you can be king there."

"Just as long as I don't have to pay you tribute."

"Never!" Thor laughed.

Frigga smiled, brushing back a lock of Thor's hair and laying a comforting hand on Loki's shoulder. It's just like when they were boys, she thought. Things would be different in the future, and there would be difficulties, as there always were at the transfer of power. _But it will be alright,_ she told herself. _Everything will be alright._

_Author's note:  
_For the drawings that inspired this scene and the one in the last chapter, see the triad of sketches towards the bottom of this picture: gallery/?offset=24#/d3hhrm8


	7. Epilogue: Odinsleep

Epilogue

_Odinsleep_

_Laufey's son. Laufey's son. Laufey's son._

The words echoed again and again in Loki's head. He sat at Odin's bedside, watching his slow breathing. Frigga sat opposite him.

His parents. His father, who had corrected his spear technique, had smiled and clapped him on the shoulder the first time he had donned his ceremonial helm. His mother, who had listened to his dreams and fears, had comforted him and made everything alright. For so many years he had admired them, loved them, tried so hard to be like them. His very life's blood came from them, or so he had thought. Until an hour ago. Until the foundation of the universe had shifted. _And they call me a liar._

The storm of thoughts threatened to drown him. Mostly to break the silence, Loki spoke. "I never get used to seeing him like this."

Frigga reached out and took her husband's hand. "He's put it off for so long that I fear..."

_Fear?_ Loki searched his mother's face. "How long will it last?"

"It's different this time. We were unprepared." Loki heard her unspoken meaning and swallowed fear. "You can speak to him," Frigga was saying. "He can hear and see everything that goes on around him."

Loki considered it briefly. He didn't think he wanted to speak, not in front of his mother at least. For once, he was afraid of what might come out of his mouth.

_You could have told me from the beginning!_ In his mind he could still feel the chill of the Casket spreading up his arms and through his body. He was glad he hadn't been able to see himself. _Laufey's son._ He remembered the Jotuns and their dreadful, red-eyed king. _My real father._

They had tried to kill him. _Left to die._ Those were Odin's words. He hadn't been good enough for Laufey, and he hadn't been good enough for Odin. _You know, it all makes sense now..._ All these years of trying and he's never had a shot. Not because of chance or ability, but because he'd never been worthy in the first place. _Just another stolen relic..._

He choked back the boiling sense of betrayal and tried to make his voice emotionless. "So why did he lie?"

Pity and regret filled Frigga's face. "He kept the truth from you so you would never feel different," she offered. "You are our son, Loki, and we your family. You must know that."

Everything Loki had thought he'd known had crumbled over the past day, but he clung to his mother's words like a lifeline. _I have to believe her. I have to._

"We mustn't lose hope that your father will return to us," she was saying. "Or your brother."

_Thor._ Loki had hardly thought of him since the confrontation in the vault. "What hope is there for Thor?"

Frigga smiled, wanting to comfort him. "There's always hope."

Something cold and hard settled in the pit of Loki's stomach. _The perfect firstborn._ Well, Loki might be nothing more than a foundling, but he was at least as capable as Thor. _And Thor's not here now. This is my time. I'll show him. I'll show Odin if it's the last thing I do. I will be the worthy son._

* * *

Thank you all so much for your attention and your comments; this whole process has been a lot of fun. Thanks especially to my betas: Elizabeth Leah, krudovana, and lanuitestcalme. You've been a God-send, and I couldn't have done this without you. Finally, a round of applause to Phobs on deviantart for providing inspiration for a couple of scenes.

SDG


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